Ripper: A New Beginning
by sonicmedusa
Summary: After being thrown out of Oxford University for unruly behaviour, a 20 year old Rupert Giles starts his new life in London. Fleeing from his family, and the burden of responsibility, he throws himself into his new found freedom! But being a Watcher is in his blood, can he really escape his destiny? Set in the swinging 70's, this is a series of short stories from his hidden past!


**Prologue**

**1****st**** February, 1960. **

The boy is ten.

'No Arthur, you can't do this!' his mother cries, holding on to his father's arm and trying to drag him and the boy out of the darkened passage. The boy can feel the tight grip of his father's fingers on his arm. It hurts, hot tears run down his face as he cries in confusion and pain.

'He has to learn, Mary! It's destiny.'

There's a howl from the other end of the tunnel. The boy screams, wanting nothing more than to run out of this damp tunnel. He's never heard such a terrifying sound, and the smell…oh god, the smell...

'Not like this Arthur, there's time. He didn't mean it…' his mother is reaching out to the boy, but is blocked by the flaming torch his father is holding. He continues to pull the child down the dank, black passage. The boy looks around, shielding his eyes from the flame. There are no lights here, no electricity. It's damp, and underground. He's lived in this house his whole life, but never been here. His mother continues to follow them, pulling at his father who only doubles his hold on the boy's arm.

'It was an accident, Arthur! Please, please let's wait.. he's not ready!'

The howl sounds again. Louder this time, closer. It's not like a dog, or even a wolf. It's got a guttural, screeching quality. It bangs against whatever door is holding it in, the boy hears chains and the scraping of nails down the wooden door. Whatever lies at the end of the tunnel is angry, and wants to come out.

'He has to take responsibilities for his actions, Mary. His blood demands it!' His father swoops the flaming torch towards his mother once more. It's heavy, and she is standing too close. It knocks her to the ground and she cries out from the pain in her head. Her husband pauses, 'No..I'm..I'm sorry..but I…I have to…' The boy sobs, and tries to run to her. But the moment of contriteness is over, and Arthur's face hardens with extra resolve.

The smell of burning hair lingers in the air, and the boy cries out for his mother once more before he is lead into the blackness.

She tries to stand, but the blood flows down her face and blinds her. She whispers one word as she reaches out her hand to her son as he's lead, screaming and sobbing, into the unknown.

'Rupert…'

The boy is ten.

**Chapter 1**

**28****th**** May, 1970.**

Oxford University stands peaceful and reserved. The courtyard is empty of any students or faculty, the respected stone pillars and the shaded porches they hold up around the edge of the cloister stand free of any dawdlers. Only the sound of birds tweeting and the wind blowing through the hundred year old oak trees is heard on this tranquil, sunny afternoon. A bastion of learning and education, it stands with quiet dignity. Until….

'_Get him_!'

A lone figure sprints through the central courtyard, laughing and pausing only to turn and stick his fingers up at the elderly faculty members chasing after him.

'Gonna get me are you, Professor Harding?! I bloody dare you!' He laughs and sprints to one of the columns. He jumps, grips on to the stonework at the top, and swings himself on to the roof of the far porch. He watches the group stumble towards him and pulls out a cigarette from behind his ear.

'You old fools! You don't know what you're talking about. Lecturing me on history, and you don't even know what went on? Well, _this_ is what I think of your pissing history!'

He lights the cig, and unzips his flies to the delighted cries and laughter of the newly gathered onlookers. The old professors – now with an octogenarian security guard in tow – don't see it, and it's far too late before they do!

'Giles! You defiler! '

'Funny, that's just what your missus said last night.' He laughs and does himself up after the torrential shower. The onlooking students are applauding, and he can't help but take a bow, before flicking the cigarette onto the sacred, now newly watered grass.

'Expelled! You're expelled! You'll never, _ever _enter this university again!' Professor Harding bluffs and blunders so much, he looks like he'll explode with outrage. Giles laughs, and turns on his heel, deflty jumping from the porch roof to the window above, and runs through the small corridor to the window on the others side. He launches himself out, rolls on the soft grass below, and keeps running without looking back.

He's still laughing as he gets to the old gate, now unmanned since security are back at the courtyard. He can hear the cheers of the students still, and pauses at the gate to take it in before he exits for total freedom. Free of his education, free of his life, free of his destiny, at _last._ His name echoes around the walls.

'Ripper! Ripper! Ripper!'

'So it _is _you.'

He turns, surprised at the sudden voice. He could have sworn no one was there a moment ago. But now, an older lady stands, leaning casually against the stone walls of the small tunnel that lead out into the city.

'Yeah…I'm Ripper. What's it to you, grandma?'

She raises her eyebrows, and seems shocked for a moment, before breaking out into a grin. 'Well, _Ripper_, it's just nice to see you. That's all.' She smiles, a little nervously it seems. She's a lot older than him, must be in her 40's at least, he thinks. Her grey hair is piled on her head, and she's dressed in a long, red crushed velvet dress. Just some old bird trying to be a hippy, he thinks.

Rupert shakes his head, and continues walking. 'Sorry granny, ain't got time for fucking about. There's a pint - and a life - with my name on it.'

'Your name's on it? Does it say Rupert Edmund Giles, son of Arthur and Mary Giles. Grandson of the infamous Edna Giles? Or does it just say…Watcher.' He pauses, and spins. If she wasn't so old he'd have pinned her against the wall.

'What did you say?' He snarls.

The corner of her mouth lifts into a smile. 'I asked you which name you're going to go by now. Are you Rupert, Ripper, or Watcher? It's really quite important.'

'Look, you old biddie. I don't know who you are, or how you know my name…name's. Title…whatever! But it's bollocks. Okay? I'm no more a watcher than you are the bloody queen! Now piss off back to whatever home you came from.'

For a moment, she looks sad, and tilts her head to the side with a sigh. 'I can't, Giles. I've come a very long way to see you, and I can't go home until you help me. Until I know we're safe.'

He rolls his eyes, and pulls out the packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He slowly lights one and takes a deep drag. 'Sorry to burst your bubble, missus. But you, and me, and the whole pissing world? We ain't never gonna be safe.' He blows out a plume of blue smoke into the air. 'That's destiny for you.'

He turns, and begins walking out to the street beyond.

'Giles, wait! You have to give me a chance to explain. There's things out there, things you need to –

'Things? _Things?!_ Things like what? Demons, vampires, werewolves…? Yeah, I know about them. And I also know I don't _need_ to do anything about them. What I _need_ to do is have a drink, and get on the next train to London..'

'Yes! London! That's good. That's _good! _You should absolutely go to London. Go to London and help the world.' She pants as she tries to keep up with his long, fast strides.

'Yep, that's exactly what I plan to do. And I'll be signing up to the RAF just as soon as my hangover goes. Now, I appear to be at my first point of call,' he pauses in the doorway of a pub, and waves his hand, indicating to the bar, 'The boozer. Now, do kindly piss off before I have to get the men in white coats to take you away.'

'Giles! Please, I haven't got much time. Just come with me and I'll explai-' But the door slams in her face. She sighs and hangs her head before looking through the window of the pub. He doesn't even look back.

**Chapter 2**

**London. 17****th**** September, 1970.**

'Listen, you puffed up ponce! My eyes are just fine, so you can stick your glasses where the sun don't shine!'

The officer shakes his head, pointing to the chart. 'I'm sorry, Mr Giles, but unless you can read all the letters clearly, there is no chance you can join the Royal Air Force. And, quite frankly, your attitude isn't exactly the behaviour we expect from our officers.'

'My attitude? Listen, my attitude is _nothing._ Not compared to what you _could_ be seeing. Now, let me do it again. I can read the bloody letters!'

'I'm sorry, Mr Giles. But you've had three tries now. You need glasses, and we can't have fighter pilots with anything less than 20 20 vision. Now please, let the next recruit in.'

Ripper looks at him, eyes ablaze with anger. Shit, now what was he going to do?! Blinded by rage, he pulls his arm across the table, knocking the papers and files on to the floor. 'You can stick your bloody air force. Won't be any good anyway.' He storms out of the office, slamming the door behind him. The outside world seems teeming with life, pedestrians and cars all going about their daily business, whilst he seems to be the only one who isn't oblivious. He sighs, and walks to the nearest pub.

'I'll have a pint of bitter, please.'

'You know, that's pretty fitting!' He turns, and sees the old woman propped next to him.

'You again! How the hell did you-'

'Oh, simple really. The only RAF recruitment office is here in Covent Garden, and this is the nearest bar…so…by using my nifty powers of detection – '

'Bar? The Lamb and Flag is the oldest pub in London. Don't go calling it a _bar_.'

'Umm, sorry. Old habits. But still! I used my detective ways to..well..detect you!'

Ripper shakes his head, and hands over the cash as his pint comes. He takes a long sip, wiping the froth from his top lip with the back of his arm, and puts a packet of cigarettes on the bar before pulling one out and lighting it. The grey haired woman coughs, and wipes the smoke away.

'I wish you wouldn't.'

'Well I wish you wouldn't follow me round like an old hag!'

'Hey! Enough with the Old! I'm not exactly on my death bed! But..well..I guess I must seem that way, seeing as you've just turned twenty.'

'That's it!' He slams his hand on the bar, and leans close in to her. The murmers of the pub patrons pause for a second, before slipping back to their conversations. 'Listen lady, I don't know who you are, or how you know so much about me. But whatever you think I'm going to do for you, I'm not. I'm fed up of doing stuff for other people. This is _my_ time, _my _life now. And you can just go to hell.'

She takes a breath, and nods. 'I'm sorry Giles-'

'Ripper, the names Ripper'

'Ripper, I'm sorry. I know how you feel. But I also know you left your history degree in Oxford because they didn't understand. The History they taught wasn't the one _we_ know…how could they believe Pompeii was really destroyed by a fire elemental, or that the 1693 Sicilian Earthquake was made by a mating pair of Tremblors, or that the Rosetta stone is just a cake recipe and hieroglyphs were really translated by a Yarbnie demon?' He scowls at her, and drinks down the rest of his pint as she looks at him pleadingly.

'Just take this, please. Just read it when you're in the club on Shaftesbury Avenue.' She takes a note from a pocket in her long coat and hands it to him. 'How do you know I was going..? No, forget it. I'm fed up of asking.' He snatches the note and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans as he walks away. 'I warn you grandma, it'll probably just get mangled in the wash!' he calls as he walks out the door..

'Oh goddess, I hope not.' She whispers. '_And stop calling me Grandma!_'

**Chapter 3**

The club is heaving, and loud music emanates from the speakers as the band rock the stage. Ripper pulls the girl close to him, and holds his arm around her waist as she grinds on him. God bless the mini skirt! He thinks. Her long legs stream out from the short, purple floral dress, and end in a pair of knee high platform boots. Her eyes are surrounded by bright eye shadow, and her long hair flows down her back in tousled curls. He grins, gripping the back of her hair, and pushing his face to hers. She bites her lip, looking into his eyes, and groans as he kisses her deeply. She grips his hips, feeling the tight jeans and even tighter shirt ripple over his well toned body. She runs her hands up to his face, and through his long, dark, curly hair.

He pulls back and grins, throwing her a wink as he moves back. She watches him go through the crowd, waving coyly at him as he gets to the bar and she continues to dance, hoping he'll be watching her move.

'Well, well, well Ripper. Looks like the Jim Morrisson look is working for you, old pal!' A younger man holds out a pint to him.

'Whatever Ethan. Jim Morrison is a hippy ponce. He nicked this off _me! _Besdies, it goes with the beads' He grins, pulling at the fashionable beaded necklace as he takes a sip from the pint. 'Besides, anything's got to be better than_ those_ things.' He points to the tight white flairs on his friend.

Ethan chuckles and clinks his glass. 'These are the height of fashion, old mucker! Everyone's wearing them at Oxford…but I guess you wouldn't know about that.'

Ripper throws his head back with a loud laugh 'It's only been a few weeks! I'm pretty sure the University hasn't been sucked in to such an unfair hell quite yet. How are they all?'

'You mean, apart from the lovely Deirdrie over there?' He looks at the young girl in the purple dress, raising his glass to her. She throws him a look of disgust before turning away, her attention only for Ripper. Ethan chuckles a little and turns back to him. 'Needless to say, you remain the hero of the whole school. Your name is whispered amongst the freshers with fear and bewilderment. I heard one rumour saying you were caught fucking the Dean's wife in the courtyard in front of everyone during lunch, another that you were caught fucking the Dean _himself_ in the courtyard in front of everyone during lunch. And another that you decapitated poor Old Bill - the security guard from the front gate! Which is amazing really, because Old Bill still dines out every night, holding court and enjoying the free booze as he regails everyone with the tale of how he single handedly caught you by deftly climbing the rooftops and bringing you to justice. According to him, mate, you were overpowered by an 80 year old with a dodgy hip, and currently serving time in the tower!'

Ripper bursts into laughter. It felt good to catch up with his mates from Uni. They had come to London to check out the band, and it was the first time he didn't feel alone since….he shook his head, swallowing the memory down with another long draw from his drink. But soon his attention is pulled away as Dierdrie walks back over to the bar. Her long legs drifting through the crowd, her hands teasing the bottom of her short skirt.

'What's wrong Ripper, not coming back to dance?'

'Just having a break sweetheart,' he grins, finishing the drink and putting the glass back on the bar. 'I'm all yours.'

'Mmmm,' she moans, running her hands down his back as she pulls herself in towards him, her lithe fingers slipping over his arse. 'I'm so glad to hear that! Hey..whats this? Some other girl giving you her number now?' She teases the slip of paper she found in his back pocket with a grin.

'Huh?' Balls, he'd completely forgotten about that. 'Bugger that, I've no idea.'

'Well, apparently she's waiting for you in the bathroom.' Suddenly her deameanor changes. She's no longer teasing, it's stopped becoming a game. She raises her brows, visibly angry. 'Who the fuck are you going to meet in the bathroom?!'

'What?! I haven't got a bloody clue what you're on about! Give me that..' He snatches the paper from her fingers. The words on it read 'Go to the girl's bathroom.'

'Oh bollocks.. look, I don't know anything about it!'

'Oh dear, old man,' laugh Ethan. 'Looks like you've been caught out!'

'Shut up Ethan, this isn't what it seems...'

'Oh really?' Cries Deirdrie, 'Well, let's just see shall we? Let's find out whose so _desperately _waiting for you in the bloody _bathroom_!'

'Ok..bloody fine!' calls Ripper, following her through the crowd as she marches to the ladies.

'Bloody fine!' cries Ethan, howling with laughter all the way.

The three of them push through the crowd, eventually getting to the door of the ladies toilets. Deirdrie tries the handle, pushing it with her shoulder. 'It's locked.' She scowls, and starts banging the door with her fist. 'Open the door you litte slut! Keep your hands off my man!'

'Hey, hey, hey!' he cries. 'Look, for a start, I'm not _your _ man. And for a second… you're causing a scene.' He looks round, cautious of anyone that might be looking. 'Here, let me. Give me a hairpin.'

He slips past her, and she pulls a pin from the long tousles. He keeps his back to the door, eyes constantly checking the bar as he teases the pin in to the lock. With a satisfied grin, he hears the lock slip. 'Can still do it with me eyes closed!'

He puts his fingers to his lips, and quickly opens the door, the other two following close behind.

'Ok, you little bitch! I'm-' Deirdrie stops her rant before it's barely begin. All fire and venom caught in her through as she sees the scene. 'Oh..god..'

'Shit,' Ripper closes the door quickly, locking it. '_Shit' _he repeats.

'Ripper, old man. Who gave you that note? Please tell me it wasn't the girl whose in that cubicle. And that cubicle, and on the floor over there.'

The scene is grisly. Blood covers the floor and the walls, with handprints over the door where the girl must have tried to escape before being so viciously ripped apart. One arms lies by the door, a remnant of her struggle, whilst another has been flung to the far corner of a toilet cubicle. One foot lies in a bloody sink, whilst her head has been disgarded by an open window.

Deirdrie fights to hold back the vomit, whilst Ethan shakes his head in shock at the sight. Ripper can feel his insides churn. It was only a matter of time.

'Damn that old bitch!' He spits.

'Ripper…what do you know about this?! Who gave you that note?' Cries Ethan.

'I don't know, okay? I don't know who she is, she just told me to look at it when I got here.' He shouts, surveying the scene from the middle of the room. Something awakes in Deirdrie as his voice finally penetrates her shock.

'But you didn't! You didn't look until I found it! We could have helped her if you'd looked sooner…' Deirdrie stops, unable to cope much more she holds her hand over her mouth.

'I don't think… I'm not sure..' he feels suddenly ashamed. Was it true? He couldn't remember what she'd said now. He was struggling to remember anything. His mind was filled with just blood, and limbs, and the head blankly staring….

'Hang on... there's no eyes.'

Ethan seems shocked 'Ripper, there's hardly anything, let alone the eyes!'

But he's already moving toward it, inspecting the decapitated head and the empty eye sockets. 'It could be a clue, Ethan. You _know_ that.'

Deirdrie, still trying to control herself, grips Ethan's arm. 'You know what? What the hell is going on?'

'Look, it's hard to explain. But we've got to do something first. Then we'll all go back to Rupert's, have a nice cup of tea, and discuss why this girl appears to have no eyes. Or anything else, for that matter. Ripper? I'm ready when you are.'

Rupert nods, putting the head back on the floor, and pulling the beads from his neck. He holds the palms of his hands out flat, with the beads running over his fingers. He looks at Ethan, his eyes flickering swiftly to Deirdrie. Ethan nods, the message is received.

'Deirdrie, my dear. You look pasty. Stand by the window and get some air.' Says Ethan, as he pushes the girl to the far side of the room. He comes back to the centre, his palms over Ruperts, and over the beads. They begin to chant.

'Seeds of wonder, seeds of change.

Takes this scene to another plain.

Goddess Hecate, take this blood.

Leave this place as it should.'

A lilac mist rises from the beads, flashes of light sparkling in the cloud as it runs around the room. It swallows the blood, the limbs, the head, before drifting around the inconsolable Deirdrie. As it moves around, the blood begins to vanish, along with the body. Even Deirdrie silences her sobbing, instead looking around confused as the mist disappears back to the hands of Ripper and Ethan.

The young men look up and around, the spell worked. The blood and limbs are gone, leaving a clean bathroom in it's wake. Deirdrie looks up, her brow furrowed in confusion. 'Hey, there's no one here.' She cocks her head to the side. ' Where you just trying to make me jealous, Rupert Giles?' She grins, walking to him, and walking her fingers up the front of his torso. 'Because, it worked!'

Ripper glances at Ethan, and takes her hand. 'Well, that's always good to hear. But it looks like me and Ethan have got some business to deal with.'

'Awww..' she leans her forehead in to his. 'But I was going to show you just how hot I get when I'm jealous. And now you're off with this sleazebag? I'm just not digging that, Ripper. Not at all.' She pouts. He sighs and pulls away, opening the door and heading out with Ethan following behind. 'Sorry love, duty calls.' He throws a look to Ethan. 'Although hopefully not for long.'

With an angry slam of the door, he walks out the bathroom with Ethan at his heels.

**Chapter 4**

They ride in silence in the black cab to Camden Town. Unable to discuss everything they want to freely. In an effort to break it, Ethan turns to Giles. 'That's not going to go down well, mate. She's not one to let things lie, you know that.'

'Not my problem. I didn't ask her to get so clingy! Should've left her out the spell. Make her think I was some kind of mass murderer.'

'C'mon now Ripper, you know that wouldn't help anything. '

The taxi pulls over outside The Black Heart Pub, hidden in the backstreets behind the main road. 'Just here?'

'Yes, that's fine.' Ripper pulls out the money and hands it to the driver before he and Ethan step out. He pulls out his keys, and opens the door next to the pub. The two walk up the three flights of stairs in silence, unwilling to let the neighbours overhear. He opens the door to his small studio flat.

'A far cry from Greyston Hall!' Ethan looks around at the tiny room. A small, dirty kitchenette in one corner, and a mattress serving as a bed in the other. Piles of boxes are pushed against the walls, like someone had only just moved in.

'Yeah, well. It's temporary. Just until I get on my feet. Besides, I'm hardly ever here, so you can keep your smart arse comments to yourself.'

Ethan raises a brow. 'Been 5 months since you moved here, and I'm pretty sure the family fortune won't miss a few coiffeurs!' He chuckles, kicking a box of musty books out the way. 'I'm guessing your mother hasn't been over to view your new digs?'

Ripper scowls, walking swiftly over the small kettle and filling it with water. 'I haven't seen her since the…since the funeral. She can mind her own business.' He says, gruffly. He keeps his back turned, unwilling to let Ethan see his expression of sadness. His friend was many great things, but he was also a turgid little grass who wouldn't stop taking the piss is he saw the infamous Ripper Giles show anything but bravado. He pursed his lips, throwing the tea leaves into the strainer with abject concentration. In an effort not to rise to Ethan's questions, he changes the subject.

'So, two feet, one arm, and a head with no eyeballs. Any ideas?' He walks over to Ethan, who is looking out the window at the drunks leaving the pub downstairs. He hands him a cup of tea and squats on the floor next to him, beginning to rifle through the books in one of the few opened boxes.

'Not a clue, but perhaps we should start with where you got that note? Call me suspicious, but I'm sure it wasn't handed to you by someone who wanted to get in your pants..'

Ripper groans, 'Urgh, not likely. It was some old biddie whose been following me around since Oxford. No idea what she thinks she's up to, but says she needs help from me. I told her she can stuff it, I'm through with that now.'

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head 'And that's why you're currently flicking through your father's copy of 'Malefor's Deamonicon', is it? And still carry round Hecate displacement seeds - cos you just want to leave that behind? Give it a rest, mate. You know it won't be over. It's in your blood!'

Ripper stands in a rush of rage, and glares into his friends eyes. 'Shut up, just shut it right now! I'm just looking out for myself now, that's why I've got the book! I don't want some demon wanka coming after me and ripping my eyeballs out cos I happen to be taking a piss at the wrong place, at the wrong time like that poor cow!'

Ethan just grins, and puts a hand on his friend's shoulder. 'Well, I think that's fair enough. But are you sure it was some kind of 'demon wanka'? Could it have possibly been a middle aged woman with grey hair, and a penchant for overly dramatic velvet cloaks?'

Ripper pauses, his rage forgotten and his mouth open. 'That's the woman who gave me the note…that's what she looks like! How did you know?'

Ethan shrugs, and pulls the curtain back from the side of the window. 'Educated guess, seeing as she's the only one outside able to stand up without holding on to the wall. Oh yeah, and she appears to have a pair of eyeballs in her hand..'

Ripper throws the curtain out of the way, and stares down at the street below. Sure enough, the woman is on the street outside, standing under a streetlamp. The drunks around her ignore her as they stumble to the street, but she is spookily lit by the orange glow, so brightly that Giles can clearly see the eyeballs she is holding in her hand as she stares up at him. She opens her mouth, and although she is three flights down and the cries and laughter of the pub patrons is loud enough to carry to his tiny flat, Ripper can still hear her words as if she was standing right next to him, whispering in his ear.

'Now do you believe me?'


End file.
